Avada Kedavra
by Senyor Fier Mensheir
Summary: Having been deprived of his basic rights, as well as his rights as a child, Harry Potter decides to deprive others of such rights as well, most especially the right to live and exist. DarkHarry. Yr 1 of my Dark Curses Series
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: Got bored, wrote this.

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**Avada Kedavra**

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_**chapter one**_

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One would think that being a hero would make life a helluvalot easier, thinking like that can get one sent to the loony bin. The life of a hero is not all fun and games. Living the life of a hero does not immediately entitile one to vast power, riches, and fame. It is a privilege, a burden, a reward, a curse, a blessing, and a punishment, all rolled into one.

One would like to think that saving the world, albeit a secret or hidden one would warrant respect, and other such things. One would think that a hero, even a child hero, would at least have a decent place to live, or simply to sleep for that matter. One would think that being a hero one would have been left in the care of caring people, not freaks of nature, true people of the world, fearing or hating what they cannot understand of hope to ever be able to achieve.

One would think that being a hero, or simply a child, one would be able to spend their childhood having fund, enjoying life, growing in mind, body, and spirit. One would think that a child would be allowed to have friends, properly interact with other's his or her own age. One would think that a hero would not have to deal with being seen as a criminal after not doing anything wrong in the eyes of the law, the eyes of religious leaders, and other such figures and organizations and institutions.

One would think that a hero would be seen as an upstanding citizen worth idolizing and trying to be emulated, and not scorned or tossed aside like garbage.

One would think that a child, not even a hero, would be given the time of day, would be given the necessary tools to grow. The necessary tools and knowledge to learn, to improve, to evolve. One would think that a child would be allowed the things in life that are needed to be happy and healthy.

One would think that a child's guardians would care enough to allow a child to actually enjoy his or her rights to an educaton. Not putting the child down whenever he or she would surpass their own natural born child.

Harry Potter was only one year old when his parents left him in the harsh world called reality. With one green beam of light, he had lost all form of innocence, as well as all hope of ever regaining that innocence ever again.

At the tender age of one, he was in a manner of speaking stripped from his parents' loving and caring embrace, and placed in the world to care for himself. Left on the doorstep of people that refused to believe in the possibilities in the world, the possibilities in life, and accept the mysteries in life as magical and amazing, and not something to be destroyed, or beaten discriminately.

For most of his young life, he had been treated as little more than a slave, slaves were treated better than he was. At the age of one, after suffering the loss of his parents, and even at such a young age he had felt his connection to them shatter, a connection which had formed on the day of his birth. Motherly instincts? Bah! It was the intrinsic connection the child shared with his mother. A spiritual or magical connection between mother and child, and at the age of one, it was shattered by a monster that had never known love, never felt it, and never needed.

From the loving arms of his mother, taken from the only place he viewed as home by a moronic entity that believed that vicious monsters were cute little rabbits. The entity then handed him over to a man steeped in his world views and beliefs about the greater good, clouded by the need to keep the peace, and had decided then and there to deprive a youth of his rights, even after being told that the home that the child was to live in was run by the foulest non-demons in the mortal realm of existence.

How can a hero actually grow up happy and healthy, and possibly even heroic, with all those virtues, when he had to deal with things that inhibited growth, dampened the spirit, and skewered the world view of even the most naive of children.

Harry Potter grew up learning things, through experiences, that were supposed to be learned later on in life and not as a child. He had been deprived of an adequate standard of living, any form of health care, a proper education, and time to actually play. He had been deprived of proper social interaction. Being deprived of such things taught Harry Potter that if he wanted something he had to go out and get it himself.

He had to live in the cupboard under the stairs, along with the cleaning supplies, which would normally be considered or even classified as poison if a child were constantly exposed to such chemicals. He also only had a single blanket to protect him from the cold, and give him comfort when he was in there. There was also the fact that his clothes were hand me down, nearly thread bare things, and things that had been taken from the local charity places, and second hand shops. The only times that his clothes were replaces when they were beyond beyond repair. His glasses, didn't even help him see better, in fact they made his sight even worse, but he needed to use them lest his aunt or uncle decide to punish him for his blindness, and ungratefulness.

His only social interaction was in school, where he was bullied by the local bullies which consisted of his cousin and company. The teachers also tended to pick on him, and not bothering figuring out how or why he acted in certain ways. None bothering to see how his homelife was. Neighbors simply took what his aunt and uncle told them about him as the truth, that he was a problem child, a criminal in child's clothing. How in heaven's name could a two year old be as bad as Hitler? Well Harry Potter was rumored to be just that, and worse. The Black Death? To the residents of Privet Drive, thanks to the Dursleys, it should have been named Harry Potter, not that Harry was ever caught doing anything wrong.

Whenever his cousin got sick his aunt and or uncle would immediately bring him to the doctor, even if it was just the common cold, or just a sneeze. But when Harry Potter got sick, or even if he just sported a wound, even a pin prick, he was sent to his cupboard until everything got back to normal, without food or water. It was a miracle that he hadn't died yet. His magic had always been working overtime just to keep him alive. It was no wonder he looked as he did, small and mousy in a way. Right to health care my ass. Whenever he got sick his relative just made sure to make it even worse than it was. Harry believed that if he ever got cancer or something like that, his relatives would simply chuck him into a hole in the ground, cover him in dirt, and not even bother to leave any evidence of there being a body there.

Children have the right to protection from abuse neglect, exploitation and discrimination. Well, technically, Harry was protected from all three of those things. His relatives made sure that they were the only sources of such abuse, exploitation, and discrimination, everyone else just took advantage of the leftover. Ah, who am I kidding, Harry Potter was used, abused, reused, exploited, and simply had one of the worst childhoods ever. Paupers had better childhoods than he did.

The abuse was obvious if anyone cared to look. Dudley never did any chores, unless going to school and bullying Harry was considered a chore. Harry did all the cooking, cleaning, washing, gardening, everything that a regular housewife would do, or a maid for that matter, except that the rewards and benefits were punishments and threats of bodily harm, the mental scarring was a given.

Discrimination? Simple: Freak.

Children have the right to participate in communities and have programs and services for themselves, which includes children's involvement in libraries and community programs, youth voice activities, and involving children as decision-makers, among other things. Harry Potter was not allowed to even set foot in any kind of library or bookshop. Harry Potter was not allowed to have friends. Harry Potter was told what to do, and not asked what he wanted to do. Harry Potter was called Freak.

But when Harry turned nine, all that changed.

On his ninth birthday, he had a dream, one which was not really a dream or a nightmare, it was a memory. A memory of the last moments of his mother's life. A memory which gave him knowledge, knowledge about the existence and proof that magic existed. From the memory he learned his very first spell.

One spell, one piece of magic that would forever change his world. It was simply, two words made up the incantation, two words that allowed the caster to change his or her own destiny. He witnessed the magic shoot out of a stick, a wand. But he didn't have one, he didn't think he needed one. Magic was magic, who said that one actually needed a wand to perform magic, it was just a tool, not the source. He was sure that he had magic, it explained many oddities in his life, like how he just couldn't seem to die. If he could fall from the roof of his school and land safe and unhurt on the ground, or jump and land on the roof as if there was nothing between the ground and the roof, all without a wand, who was to say that he needed a wand to cast that two worded incantation.

Come to think about it, who said that incantations were even needed, they seemed to be just as much a tool or focus as the wand itself. If seeing was believing than magic must be as well. Magic is believing. To think is to create.

Upon waking up in the morning he tried it out, believing that he had the magic to do it, willing the power to come forth and show itself. Nothing happened the first few tries.

It was probably due to his not having an actual target, or the will or belief needed for his magic to manifest itself outside of life and death situations.

A month after discovering the memory, Harry had been walking on the sidewalk as he had been shoved out of the house to run an errand, only to be shoved once again, but this time into an alleyway. Looking like a pauper apparently didn't make one one, as the man that had pushed him into the alley knew that he had some money on him. Money that was supposed to be spent on whatever it was that his aunt ordered him to buy.

The man demanded that Harry handed over whatever valuables that he had on his person, pulling out a knife just to prove that the man didn't care all that much that he was a child.

Harry's first instinct was to try and escape. But he squashed that instinct, and thought that perhaps it was time to test out his magic, if it didn't work, he'd be stabbed and possibly die of bloodloss or something like that, end his suffering and all that. He had learned about Children's Rights, and the Basic Human Rights in class one day.

So he fearlessly grabbed the man's wrist and plunged the knife into his body, and willed the power to surface, focusing all of his belief in the possibility of magic, as well as focusing all of his intent on killing the man in front of him, as well as possibly robbing the man of his lifeforce. That last bit he got out of a TV show his relatives had been watching this one time.

The man tried to jerk away, panicked that he had found an insane kid instead of a rational individual that was afraid of death, and not one that didn't really care about the consequences of plunging a knife in his gut. It was at about that time that Harry's magic finally manifested itself outside of his body.

A transparent green glow formed over his hand, the hand that was gripping the wrist of the would be holdapper. It was through that hand that Harry was able to absorb the life out of his victim. As it seemed to be a slow process, he pulled his hand away and the man staggered backwards, stumbling, then falling on his ass.

"W-w-what did you do to me!?" the man panicked and said.

"I took your life force," Harry said with an expressionless face, "It was very tasty, you had a lot more years to live, but sadly you chose the wrong child today."

Harry then stepped forward, moving closer to the man, one hand outstretched.

"S-stay way from me!" the man shouted, wondering why no one was coming into the alleyway to investigate.

"No one but I can hear you now," Harry said, after realizing his success, he unconditonally and believed with his entire being that magic was real, and with it he could do anything. Making the man's voice, and their presence only heard by him and known to him were simple things after that.

His magical reserves were huge, considering that magic was like a muscle, the more it is used the more developed it gets, and Harry had been using a hefty amount of it since day one of his imprisonment at Number 4 Privet Drive.

"S-stay a-away..." the man pleaded as he scampered backwards until his back hit the wall.

"You've seen far too much," Harry said, "I think I'll take the rest of your life as well."

He then reached out his hand, which then grabbed hold of the man and somehow pulled him closer to Harry. A feat which no ordinary malnourished nine year old would have been able to do. When the man was face to face with Harry, he, Harry, let go of the man's body, while his hand gripped onto the man's lifeforce, spirit, and soul.

He then took the lifeforce into one hand, and moved it towards him mouth, and as if it were the most common thing to do in the world he ate it. Ate it as if it were cotton candy, noodles, food. He followed that by eating the spirit, leaving only the soul left.

The man's soul was an orb, like a pearl, but it had swirling colors in it. He guessed that the colors must have represented something about the man, but until he knew more about the soul, and the colors they represented, he'd keep the soul orb, the soul pearl. Where to keep it was simple, he transfigured a rock into a pouch, and placed the soul pearl into it.

After disposing of the body which was very hard to do as he had to hide it, then he remembered that he could use magic, so he transfigured the body into a rock, then he left the alley as he still had errands to run.

He now had the power, the power to end his suffering. The world was his oyster, but first he needed to be free of his present guardians.

After getting back to Privet Drive he immediately went to his aunt and handed over the purchases.

She then sent him into his cupboard as he had taken too long, or so she said.

He was sure that she didn't really need a reason to shove him in that cramp little space, she just did it as a habit, as well as the fact that he knew she hated him for just existing.

That night his uncle pulled him out of his cupboard and began shouting at him and beating him, saying things to the extent that he didn't have the right to live, that he didn't have the right to exist.

Seeing as all of his rights were being denied, him he thought that perhaps it was time that he denied his relatives the blessing that was his presence.

He had watched a part of Star Wars one day, it was when one of the jedi got his way by simply saying something, kind of like mind control Harry liked to believe. Well he may not have the Force, but if he could steal lifeforce, eat spirits, and take souls, why not mind control.

So he willed his words to be the medium of his mind control.

"_You will get your affairs in order and leave all of your worldly possessions to me_," Harry said, his magic lacing his words, "_When you have done that you will tell me._"

"I will get my affairs in order and leave all of my worldly possessions to you," his uncle and aunt said, "When I have done that I will tell you."

It worked like a charm, the lawyers couldn't really care about the sudden filling of two wills. It wasn't like the Dursleys were that well off, they had money, but not enough to really need a binding will. The lawyer thought that they just wanted to feel richer than their status. He didn't really bother reading it all. He didn't realize that the Dursleys were not leaving anything for their own son, everything would go to their nephew on the event of their death.

"It is done," his uncle and aunt told him, once they did, an aura of emerald flames rose out of his body and surrounded him.

Before they could react to this deathly green light surrounding their nephew, Harry had already gripped him uncle, and pulled out the lifeforce, spirit, and soul. It was then that his aunt remembered her sister one time telling her about a spell that was colored green that would kill any living thing it touched. She screamed, right until her life was taken from her as well.

As soon as Dudley returned, for he had spent the afternoon after class with one of his friends, he saw the dead bodies of his parents, and also Harry sitting on the couch watching some TV as if nothing was wrong in the world.

"_You will find a knife and stab your parents, then you will smear their blood all over the room,_" Harry instructed his bully of a cousin, "_When you are done, you will run into the neighbor's house and slit your throat wide open, afterwhich, you will disembowel yourself._"

His cousin immediately did as he was told to do, Harry decided that copying the movie was a total waste, so settled to tweaking his intent for when he did his mind control trick on his cousin. It worked like a charm. A few minutes later Privet Drive was swarming with police. Police that were horror striken not by the fact that a child had mutilated his parents to the point that their bodies were nearly unrecognizeable, but due to the fact that the sole remaining member of the household just sat on the couch watching television as if nothing had happened.

Even with all the blood covering him, Harry pretended not to be aware of his surroundings.

The Police questioned him on the events that had occurred, he said that his aunt and uncle didn't really care for him much, so he didn't care about them either.

"What do you think about your relatives?" one officer asked him.

"They could all die for all I care," he told the officer.

"They're already dead," the officer, trying to get a normal reaction out of the kid, said, "In case you haven't noticed, you're covered in their blood."

"Oh," Harry said, no trace of any emotion on his face, in his voice, not even his eyes. He had trained himself well.

"Kid, didn't you hear what I just said?" the officer asked incredulously, "I just said that they're dead!"

"So?"

"Gah!" the officer frustratedly said and attempted to strangle Harry only to be held back by his peers.

"Get him out of here," the officer in charge told the ones holding that particular officer back.

"Hey, let go of me! I'm gonna kill that kid!" the officer said as he struggled, apparently he had seen his parents or a loved one die before his very eyes, and was pissed that some kid didn't really or couldn't really care, at all.

A gunshot rang throughout the house, all eyes immediately turned to face the origin of the sound, and found the formerly struggling officer. He had a gun in his hands and had just shot his superior through the heart, killing him instantly.

A second gunshot rang out, this time the bullet went through his own head.

"I didn't think he'd ever shut up," Harry said flatly.

*

Harry inherited everything from his relatives like he had planned. But he was unable to touch any of the liquidated assets until he reached the age of majority. Anyone that took care of him was sure to benefit from it. While they weren't rich, they were when they died as it was found out that someone had gotten them life insurance, and no one dared suspect a nine year old kid of planning it all. Even Harry had to admit that he wasn't aware that they had life insurance.

After the death of his relatives Harry had at first been placed in a half way house for orphans, then moved on to several families, ones that didn't have children of their own. Of course all of them died, one after another, all in mysterious circumstances, they mostly killed each other in fights, leaving everything they owned to Harry, of course in order to not make it that suspicious they left some things to their own relatives.

After the twenty-seventh family had died, Harry had amassed quite a huge fortune, all inherited from the people he killed. They were not killed mercilessly, they had all been granted quick deaths, it was just that their bodies weren't always treated with care.

It was also by that time that social services decided to take him to an orphanage and leave him there, hoping that this latest move wouldn't bear poisoned fruit.

It was an orphanage filled with many children, as well as secretly very strict caretakers. Once they had been briefed on Harry's situation, they treated him differently. He saw the greed in their eyes, they wanted him to die so that his fortune would pass on to them as his caretakers. Such was the reason why Harry had killed his previous other caretakers.

After about a week of staying at the orphanage, he could no longer stand it, the thoughts and feelings of the caretakers had become too much for him. Killing them would be easy, but how to deal with all the innocent children. He had killed Dudley because he was guilty, obviously so. But these children had yet to do anything to him. He would spare them.

That was until he found out that the adults had corrupted the children into not paying him attention, treating him as if he did not exist. They hated him because they knew he had something. While they were the run of the mill kind of orphans with nothing to their names. The caretakers told the children to hate him, because he refused to give the orphanage money to help the other children, greedily hoarding it all for himself. So the children hated him too, and wanted what he had worked hard for.

He killed them all, framing everything on the owner of the orphanage, placing all the blame on him and his staff. While he didn't outright kill the caretakers, he had them kill the children. Quick deaths were not granted to those hellions. He only took their lives himself when they were just about to die. He caught their souls just as they were leaving their bodies.

Leaving him the only child remaining at the orphanage. The police and social services had to once again transfer him to yet another orphanage, and so the cycle repeated itself all over again. It eventually reached a point where he had been emancipated, as no one would willingly take him into their home our of fear that they would be next on the Grim Reaper's list of victims.

So at the ripe old age of ten, Harry was officially an adult, one that no one wanted to bother or get on his bad side.

There had apparently been one incident that a man had been rude to him, and that same man had been found dead the next day. Harry had been able to time the amount of time before his life stealing ability took affect on his victim, as well as how to do it from a far. Even his mind control could be done in such ways as well. He no longer needed to voice his instructions, but was able to implant them directly to his victim's mind, with or without eye contact, but with eye contact was easier than the indirect approach.

He had yet to figure out what to do with the soul pearls, he had quite a collection of the things, that after buying an entire apartment complex, he had decided to go about buying, instead of making, his own cabinet or something to keep his growing collection of souls. Lifeforce and spirits were his food and drink, and he was now able to mix the ones from different people together, and place them in containers, and treated them as snacks, or energy drinks. Lifeforce being the food, while the spirits being the drink.

He had a few hundred souls in his collection, and the collection grew a little each day.

Six months into his being totally independent, and being an adult, he had his first encounter with people that he would not kill, as they seemed to have some use, or be of use to him.

He had been walking along a street at night, in one of the seedier parts of the city, and had come across what looked to be a gang war. Gun shots were heard, and the like, he had also spotted some police cars that were heading the same way he was, but for some reason had turned around just after seeing him walking in the direction of the fire fight.

He found an unoccupied car and sat on its hood, and simply watched the two gangs kill each other, snatching their souls, as he really didn't need the lifeforces and spirits as he had more than enough to last him for more than a century, it was the souls that he wanted, it was his hobby, collecting souls.

Apparently one side was that of two allied gangs, both of whom had decided to go against the local mafia. The difference between the gangs and the mafia, was that the mafia were more respected and successful, in both the legal world and the underworld.

Harry simply watched them duke it out, taking soul after soul from the fallen. When he finally got bored he hopped off the hood of the car, and walked up to one of the gang leaders, and raised him above the ground, halting any bullets before they could hit the man.

"I have use for you," Harry said monotonously, and asked, "Do want to live or do you want to die."

The gang leader was clearly two feet in the air, held up by Harry's magic, the only thing of Harry's that moved were his eyes, expressionless and dead green eyes. The bullets had long since fallen to the ground, all around them had ceased firing to watch what was happening, as well as fearing for their lives, but being to entranced by what was happening to move.

"L-live," the man said.

Harry let the man drop to the ground, relatively unharmed, any and all wounds the man had received in the fighting had ceased to exist. Not only was Harry able to take life, but give it in a way, healing was one of his skills, not that he really needed to perform it on himself as it was an automatic function already, wounds healing at a rate that most vampires would view as unbelieveable.

"From now on til the day you die, you will serve," Harry stated, "Understood?"

"Y-yes s-sir," the man said.

"Good," Harry said, he then shifted his attention to the mafia members, "Serve me or die. Choose."

"You may have been able to pull that trick earlier, but it wont work on me," one of the mafia members said, "Go ahead and try, I wont betray my boss."

"Admireable, but detestable at the same time," Harry said, "Now, die."

He stretched out a hand, and green fire burst from it, then shot from his hand slamming into the man that had spoken, incinerating his body, turning it into ash, as well as transfering his lifeforce and spirit to Harry, who then placed them into two separate containers. The flames then delivered the soul pearl into his outstretched hand before disipating.

"Anyone else?" he asked in such a way that no one dared refuse his offer, "Good. Follow me."

He lead his his soldiers for that was more or less what they were, to his apartment complex. It was a bit of a walk, the people following him had followed in their cars, motorcycles, and other vehicles, for some reason he was able to move at a pace which the cars could follow while not look like they were obviously following someone.

"Use the garage if you must, and meet me on the roof," Harry instructed them, and implanted certain directives into their minds as he spoke, as well as safeties just in case any of them decided to betray him.

A few minutes of waiting later and all were on the roof, all present and accounted for, any missing persons were turned into ashes, and turned into food for the cursed child.

"This is my home, as well as our base of operations," Harry said, "I have implanted into your minds directives, orders, and a mental link which only I will be able to use. Through it I will send you orders, unless you are with me at the time. Any questions so far?"

"What are you?" one man asked.

"You are of the underworld, and therefore I believe you must have at least heard of the Cursed Child," Harry said.

"Everyone knows about that," one man said, "Y-you're not saying that you're..."

"I am that child," Harry stated, "You will be working for me now. What you will mostly be doing is running around the city, and finding people that no one would miss."

"What are we to do with these people?"

"You are to curse them," Harry said.

"Curse them? How are we to do that?"

"Come by my office in the morning," Harry instructed, "At that time I will give you the tools for marking these people that society will not miss. I would also have you prepare your resumes, as there are a number of posistions that need filling in my new company."

"I..I h-have a question," one man bravely said.

"Ask it," Harry said.

"H-how are you able to do the things that you do?"

"Magic," Harry replied, "I think of myself as a Death Mage..and possibly a necromancer, though I have yet to try anything to do with that. The rest of your orders have been uloaded into your minds. You know where to go. Dismissed."

As his men left to go about their business until the morning, Harry jumped down to the ledge outside his bedroom window, then entered his room via the window, lay on his bed, and went to sleep..hoping to view another memory.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: Got bored, wrote this.

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**Avada Kedavra**

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_**chapter two**_

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His first employees were given special swords which Harry created using his emerald flames. They were frozen flames, more like small daggers with an emerald shaped into a blade instead of steel or some kind of metal.

All of those that were assigned as his soldiers were given such a dagger, as well as special sheathes. The sheathes were made with pure silver, where Harry got them no one knew. He actually got them from the magical world, the memory of his mother's death was not the only one he was able to see as a dream, there were more, so much more. He had apparently at one point in time been the soul jar or horcrux of the man that had killed his parents. But after he had become what was known as the Cursed Child, the soul of Voldemort, rather Tom Riddle was consumed by Harry, integrating the knowledge of the man into himself, but he didn't get it all, the minor ones were instantly added to the child's mind, while the major ones were viewed as dreams to emphasize their importance, or supposed importance. Which was the reason why he seemed to be such a mature and knowledgeable child. But even with such memories he still couldn't figure out what to do with the soul pearls.

The daggers were his death magic given a more solid and permanent form. They were the best weapons for dealing death. Even a scratch caused by the blade could kill the person that was scratched. They were that deadly. As they were made out of Harry's magic, each blade had a connection to their creator, he had the final say in how long it would take to kill the victim. The default setting was instantly. The only ones the blades wouldn't kill were those people under Harry's employ, the magic could tell who was and who wasn't. Silver was the only protection against the blades, a certain amount found on the body could negate the effects of the magic, but should Harry really want to harm that person, not even encasing oneself in silver armor would save that person.

The company that Harry had just started was one that basically invested in other countries, as well as loaned money to those in need of it. It was easy to start the business, and get things rolling thanks to his initial employees, all of whom had connections in different places.

It had not been all that difficult to insert himself into the underworld society, it was really simple for Harry. All he needed to do was prove that he was not a push over, as well as protect his people. When some of the leaders of the underworld demanded to have a meeting with the upstart, he entered the room accompanied by a single guard, a woman by the name of Charity, not that she was very generous, she was actually very stingy. He paid all of his people, it just didn't seem right, even to him. When they dismissed him, he simply killed them all, and replaced them with people that became loyal to him.

Within the span of half a year he had gone from being simply known as the Cursed Child to the Demon Lord of the Underworld. He controled and ruled over one sixth of the British underworld.

He killed anyone that got into his path, the only value he had for human life was that as long as they were useful to him they were valuable, when no longer of use, they were disposable. But he did keep some of those disposables as they had yet to actually betray him. Many of his people zealously served him, especially his soldiers during wars.

There had been a single incident that at entire crime family had deicded that Harry was nothing to really worry about. Killing hardened criminals in a sealed room, while seemingly hard to do was possible, as it had been done, but to take on the full might of an entire crime family, that was insane. A plan which Harry knew about just before it was enacted. The rival family believed that Harry's powerbase wasn't all that powerful, even with all the allies he had gained from killing off the former sixth of the underworld. The numbers of his people were known throughout the underworld. But it was not known how they dealt with traitors or enemies.

Not really caring about these unknown that one rival family tried to invade Harry's home and office.

Harry always wore black, not dark colored clothes, black, from his underwear all the way to even his umbrella. Everything was black. His theme was dark god, and all of the artworks he owned depicted angels and demons. His people also had uniforms, regular employees wore black uniforms, while soldiers had a mask as an addition. The plainer the mask the higher in rank. A smooth mask was the sign for the highest level of trust, only one person had been deemed worthy, Charity.

A hundred men had stormed the first floor of the complex, and in a matter of only a few minutes all hundred were dead. The only marks on their bodies were scratches. Harry only had a total of one hundred people, twenty-five office workers, and the rest were soldiers.

The second wave met a similar fate, as did the third, and the fourth, up until there was nothing left fo the crime family to send.

There weren't any sounds of gun fire, just when the boss of the crime family was about to charge in himself, he was saved from all the trouble of locating Harry as he calmly stepped out of the self repairing front door.

"You annoy me," Harry told him, "Now, die."

An entire crime family was wiped out in a ball of emerald green fire.

Harry was now eleven years old, and had just received a letter that he had been expecting for quite some time. He quickly sent a reply to the school stating that he would be attending.

"I will be attending a boarding school up North," Harry informed Charity, "I will be leaving you in charge while I am away. Try not to tarnish our reputation while I'm gone."

"Understood my lord," she said, then asked as per proceedure, "Will you be needing a protection detail while you shop for your school things?"

"Yourself and two others," Harry said in reply, "Make sure the ones you pick will be able to adequately assess the possibilies of expanding our business into the magical world."

"Of course sir, will that be all?" she said.

"For now," Harry said.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: Got bored, wrote this.

*

*

**Avada Kedavra**

*

*

_**chapter three**_

_*_

_*_

The next day before Harry could leave home with his guard, a giant of a man barged into his dining room as he was eating breakfast. The people in the room were so surprised at the arrival of this hairy giant of a man, that none of them acted.

"Ello there 'arry, I'm Hagrid keeper of the key and the grounds of Hogwarts," the giant introduced himself, "I s'pose you don't remember me, but I was the one that took ya to 'umbledore. 'ave your relatives told you about the wizarding world?"

"Are you saying that you came all the way into my home just to tell me that?" Harry asked not bothering to look at the giant.

"Well..no..I'm supposed to guide you and help you with your shopping," Hagrid said, "Headmaster's orders, something about your relatives not caring either way. Are they here?"

"They're dead," Harry said, "And you are trespassing."

"Trespassing? I'm here on official business," Hagrid said. Showed how much he had between his ears.

"Is there any other reason for your being here?" Harry asked the simple minded man.

"Well..I was to explain our world to ya," the giant said.

"I know enough as it is," Harry said while picking up a fork and pointing it at the giant, "As thanks for admitting to being an indirect cause of my earlier childhood suffering I will grant you a quick death."

"Quick death? Suffering? That's not a very funny joke Harry," Hagrid said.

"Avada Kedavra," Harry intoned, fork pointed at the half-giant, it was impossible for the giant of a man's mind to comprehend what was happening, and before he knew it he was dead.

It was quick and painless, but for once Harry did not collect the lifeforce and spirit of his victim.

"Mortar and pestel," Harry told one of his aides, then when the items were brought to him, he placed the pearl into it and had his aide grind it up.

"Will that be all sir?"

"I think it is about time for us to increase our ranks," Harry said.

"Sir?"

"Send the Zabini trio to Knockturn Alley to begin recruitment," Harry instructed his aides, "Alert Charity that I will be leaving in fifteen minutes."

"At once my lord."

*

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and company were walking the streets of London heading for the most used gateway into the Wizarding World. Which wasn't really all that spectacular in the sense that it was an old fashioned and grimy pub, which hadn't yet, like the rest of the society, caught up with the times. Such a backwards society, but Harry found that that was something which he liked about it.

Getting there didn't take all that long, not that any of Harry's people would have complained if they were tired for fear that Harry would get rid of them. He really didn't need a reason, other than being hungry to kill someone. But even a child such as him had some manner of morals, since he preferred not to kill off the next generation, unless they did something which he viewed as insulting, rude, or a number of other things.

Entering the pub was easy, he wasn't recognized by anyone, but his mask wearing guard were looked at suspiciously, rightly so. Charity did not wear her mask. She was attractive enough to be thought of as a pureblood witch, silky blond hair, piercing blue eyes, perfect figure. What made people think twice about her blood status was what she wore. She looked like a professional business woman, and even carried around a leather bound ledger, and a pen could be seen sticking out of her breast pocket.

The two guards also wore blazers and pants, and shiny leather shoes. Covering their faces were what looked to be theatre masks depicting demons, and even had horns on the forehead area.

Harry had passed through the pub in the past, but he usually didn't bother with having an escort, or looking as presentable as he did this time. His day was great, but when he passed by a turbaned individual, he decided that perhaps his day would be get better. Passing by the turbaned man he touched the man's hand, leaving some of his magic in the man, setting the timer to the next time the man did something which was considered against the law. It wasn't really much of a timer, more like a trigger mechanism. He had just given his supposed Defense Against the Dark Arts professors a death sentence to be carried out that same day, ruining the plans of one deposed dark lord. Not that some defunct dark lord could really compare to a Demon Lord, even if it was only a title or alias.

While none of them had any wands, entering the alley itself was a piece of cake as all they had to do was walk through the wall, something which Harry had been doing for some time now. Upon entering the alley he was not surprised of entranced with the magicness of the place, as he had seen it all so many times that it was normal for him, not so for his three companions as it was the first time they had actually really been able to see this much of the magical world. The seedier parts of the magical world didn't count, since that was not so uncommon a scene or place for the underworld citizens.

The Zabini Trio as they were called were three squibs of the Zabini clan, and had come to work for Harry on that same night that he gained his first followers, they were among the mafia men there. They were also the only three that were actually familiar with the magical world, as well as with dealing with the shaddy characters in the seedier districts of the magical world of Britain.

"Where to first?" Charity asked her boss.

"The bank," Harry said, "Notes aren't accepted here."

Gringott's Bank was the only bank that could be found in the wizarding world, save for a few select countries where either dwarves or gnomes of a higher intellect had banks to oppose the goblin monopoly.

Harry had never really needed to access his own vault, he had only exchanged pounds for galleons, sickles, and knuts. The goblins considered him a regular customer, and were well aware of his profession in the muggle world. They too referred to him as the Demon Lord due to one occassion when a goblin had insulted him, and not ten seconds later the goblin ceased to exist. Harry had been wearing rags that day. He had been called a thief, he wasn't a thief, he was a murderer. He told the goblins that listened and watched what had happened to not make the same mistake, lest there be consequences. The goblins didn't approve of his threatening them, and therefore brought him to one of their dragons and fed him to it, thinking that some no name child couldn't escape such a fate.

The dragon didn't stand a chance, as it had instantly died the moment Harry looked into its eyes. It was a rather young dragon which meant that its lifeforce was rather strong, granting Harry an extremely extended lifespan.

Lifeforce was like an elixir of life, extending lifespan, spirit increased magic actually, and still the soul pearls were only collected. He still needed some information about souls to figure out what to do with the ones he had collected.

From then on Harry was referred to as Demon Lord by the goblins, for they had never encountered a human that could kill a dragon with just a stare.

While Harry never really expressed his emotions, and while no one could really tell what he was thinking or feeling, some of his people found out that so long as your intentions were pure, you could talk to Harry as if he were just anyone. It was hard to figure out at first, until Charity herself had accidentally given him a noogie after he actually did something adorable, even with his deadpan expression.

She apologized profusely afterwards, while everyone around her had their backs pressed to the walls in preparation for whatever explosion happened. Harry just stared at her, then walked away, saying to try not to do that again, lest he be forced to kill her.

It was one of the few times in her life under him that she had acted so unlike her stoic and stingy self, it was also the first time that she had acted so much like a girl.

"Um..my lord, the bank?" Charity asked.

"Big white building, follow me," he said, then walked ahead.

He lead his followers to bank, it loomed over him, it was humbling in a strange way, but the guards upon seeing Harry seemed to shrink back, as did the bank itself, magic structure and all.

"T-thats an intimidating bank," one of Harry's Imps, which was what rank they had.

"Are those guys in armor goblins?" the other asked.

"I would assume that they are," Charity said.

"My key has finally been retrieved," Harry said after approaching a teller, "I would like to make a withrawal."

"You have a vault with us?" the goblin asked.

"Here is my key," Harry said as he placed the key on the counter, "I would be willing to undergo any test you may have to ascertain if I am who I say I am."

"T-this is the key to the Potter Trust Vault.." the goblin said in disbelief, "A-are you claiming to be Harry Potter?"

"I am not claiming such a thing," Harry said, "I am stating that I am Harry Potter, the Demon Lord of the Underworld."

"T-The Cursed Child....I..excuse me..but the bank would have you take a test to ascertain your identity, if you would follow me," the goblin said.

The group of four were lead into a room somewhere else in the bank, in it was a pedestal with a bowl on top of it.

"Kindly drop some blood into the bowl, this will tell us who you are, among other things," the goblin said.

Harry provided himself with a knife, one similar to the daggers his soldiers all carried, he then cut open his palm and let the blood flow into the bowl, before calling forth his emerald flames to close up the wound faster, the knife melting in his other hand joining the green flames.

The blood drained from the bowl and kind of crawled to the wall where it was all absorbed and then writing began to appear. Starting with his name, followed by his titles and aliases, and then his parents' names and branched out from there to show the rest of his family tree all the way to the first magical person in his lineage. The writing filled the walls, ceiling, and floor of the room.

"This is surprising," the goblin said.

"How so?" Charity asked.

"Normally if one were a minor the only information that would be presented was the name and name of parents," the goblin said, "But in this case the results are what happens when an adult takes the test."

"I was emancipated a while ago," Harry informed the goblin, "How do these results affect me?"

"Well, that means that you are an adult in this world as well as the muggle world," the goblin said, "Based on the results the bank can find out how many estates you are actually yours. As it appears that you are not only the heir to the Potter fortune and name but some other vaults that have not had an owner for the past hundred or more years."

"This is Charity," Harry said motioning to his personal assistant, "She takes care of my day to day, and other such matters, forward your findings to her, as well as the proceedures I will to undergo to gain full access to all of my accounts."

"Understood my lord," the goblin said, "Shall we proceed to your trust vault for the time being?"

"Yes," Harry said.

The visit to the vault was uneventful as nothing really happened on the trip down, and back up to the surface.

"We will owl the results to your assistant once everything has been found out," the goblin teller told Harry just as the boy was leaving the bank, a pouch of gold hanging from his belt, in plain sight, and he was hoping that someone was stupid enough to try and steal from him.

"Where to next?" Charity asked her boss.

"The only reason I allowed you three to come with me was that it would be faster, so split up, and meet me at Olivander's when you've purchased everything," Harry responded.

"A-are you sure?" Charity asked, "I mean...we've never actually been here before.."

"In one of your pockets I've placed a pouch with enough money to purchase the supplies for five students and then some," Harry informed them, "Get me my supplies, and whatever else catches your fancy. Just don't make me wait too long for you."

"Yes my lord." Charity and the two Imps said, as Harry walked away from them.

As he left his three companions, who had decided to forget that they were his protection detail, not that he needed them to protect him. He didn't think that there would be any need for them to be around him during this particular trip. It wasn't like his defense would flater. If anyone tried to attack him with a spell, his emerald flames were more than enough of a shield to shield him.

As Harry walked through the throng of people, he felt someone try to grab hold of his coin pouch. It wasn't long after that that someone shouted and the people gave way to the body of the pickpocket. After checking the body, the child was declared as dead, and it was a sad day for one of the pureblood families as the child was none other than Blaise Zabini. Harry recognized the child from descriptions the Zabini Trio had submitted to him in a report about the members of the Zabini crime family.

'_One less pureblood to worry about_' Harry thought to himself as he moved on, not really caring all that much, it was the child's own fault for trying to steal from him.

Someone knew the circumstances of what had occurred, one of the child's friends that is, the one that had dared him to try and snatch Harry's coin pouch.

Draco Malfoy was the one that had dared Blaise Zabini to steal from Harry. He was presently suffering due to it, as he had mentioned that he dared his friend to do the deed, and this was the result. Not a very comforting thing, one moment they were fooling around, the next minute the child is dead at the feet of some random stranger. Not that Harry really cared as he walked on as if nothing was wrong in the world.

He arrived without further incident, save for the two simple boys that had tried to bully him into handing over his money to them. Those two mini gorillas shared the same fate as the Zabini boy, except they ended up killing each other, their minds were so easy to override.

He walked into the wand shop, and was greeted by the proprietor of the shop and was asked a number of innane questions, in the end, not even the wand that the wand maker thought would suit him, did not want him either. It was as if all the wands were weary of him, scared of him even. While the wands chose the wizard, they were all essentially made ouf of dead materials, but Harry's magic was deader or deadlier than dead, which must have been what was causing all the wands to not want to be his.

"I'm sorry but it seems like all of my wands do not want to chose you..." the wand maker said, "I'm truly sorry, but I don't think I can provide you with a wand."

"Can you not make a custom wand for me?" Harry asked.

"Ah..but I doubt even my materials will accept you," the wand maker said, "I am but a simple wand maker, not a wand crafter, my stores are rather limited, and not suited for one such as yourself."

"Then you are of no use to me," Harry said, pointing a finger at the wand maker, "Now, Die."

Emerald flames burst from his body, completely surrounding him in a blaze of green, then it all traveled and compresed into a single flame at the tip of his finger. Which then flew to the wand maker, and before the man could scream, he was engulfed by emerald flames, just as the small flame touched him. Ending his life, line, and career all due to his inability to provide something for Harry to use, not that he needed to use one to do magic, but it was one of the required items on the list of school supplies.

Harry left the shop, and allowed the flames grow out of control to the point where they were no longer simply his death flames, but fiendfyre, the blaze growing to the point that the shop itself and all the wands and wand making tools and materials, ended up being lost to all.

As he left the burning building, he entered Knockturn Alley, and mentally informed his companions of his destination. He was heading for his recuiters who had decided to take a short break at the Choco Chugger, a pub in the depths of Knockturn Alley.

"Have you recruited anyone?" Harry asked his subordinates when he met up with them at the pub.

"Ah...yes.." one of the Trio said, "They are disgraced wizards who fell from grace during the last wizarding war."

"How many," Harry asked.

"Five families," the trio answered.

"Lead them to the office, I will meet with them there," Harry instructed, "By now Charity and those other two should have gotten all of my supplies."

"Yes sir," the Trio said.

"Will you be going home now?" one asked.

"Are there those here that will not be missed?" Harry asked instead of answering.

"Plenty, my lord."

"Think of them all that I might feast," Harry said, "I have yet to find a wand suitable for my needs."

With his surbordinates thinking of all the denizens of the alley that would not be missed, Harry grabbed hold onto those information through his link to them. When he was done, he left the pub without a word.

Several hours later the citizens that lived and worked in Knockturn Alley realized that it was quieter than usual. A few minutes after that the first body was found leaning against a wall. The only reason that the person was found to be dead was that the body simply fell to the ground and never got up. That was what caught the attention of the person that saw it. While looking into the narrow side street the person saw more bodies, strewn about. All of them dead bodies. One of them he had interacted with just an hour earlier.

Aurors were immediately called in and the area was investigated thoroughly. People that would normally not be missed were being found dead in the side streets, everywhere, and there was no magical signature for them to track who performed the killings.

It was an impossibility.

*

"Did you enjoy our shopping trip my lord?" Charity asked Harry during suppertime. She had gained the habit of actually eating supper with him, along with the few guards that decided to live in the complex as if it were a dorm.

"It was..delicious," Harry said, then continued eating normal food.

"He decreased the population again didn't he," one of the other people in the room asked Charity.

"I would guess so," Charity said, "The Alley was thick with the delicious aroma..that which our lord loves so much."

"In only a short time we have grown rather loyal to our lord...it must be due to his aura, it is intoxicating for one so young, but experienced as he," the man said.

"Maybe I should have brought you along Tristan," she said.

"Perhaps next time I'll tag along," he said.

Tristan was Charity's polar opposite in personality and in a way looks. He was handsome, but he really didn't care about his appearance, just as Harry didn't care either. His use to Harry was that he loved killing, but with poisons.

They stopped talking when they heard a chair move, and look to the origin of the sound, which was Harry getting up from his seat.

"Tristan," Harry said.

"Y-yes?"

"Accompany me on the first," Harry said, then left the room to prepare for bed, "And make sure that when I return for the holidays, Charity wears a ring on that finger of hers."

_When he was gone.._

"Did he just...crack a joke?" Charity asked.

"Err..haha...I dunno really...he said it so deadpan that I'm not sure...haha," Tristan said.

"Does he know?"

"About?"

"Us?"

"If he did...what then?"

"..."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: Got bored, wrote this.

*

*

**Avada Kedavra**

*

*

_**chapter four**_

_*_

_*_

"...Platform 9 3/4!" a red headed woman repeated over and over again, for some reason no one paid her much attention, either due to some kind of magic spell, or because she did it everyday and it looked crazy.

"She's kind of irritating," Tristan said, leaning on some railings.

"Then kill her already," Charity said annoyed with the woman as well.

"...Tristan..." Harry said out of the blue.

"Sir?"

"Make her lose her voice," Harry instructed. He too was annoyed.

"Just do it Tris," Charity said, "If you don't I'll put a bullet through her voicebox."

"Fine, fine," Tristan said, and walking toward the woman.

"You are annoyed, I take it," Charity said to Harry.

"How can you tell?" he asked.

"Even though you appear to be incapable of any emotion, I can still tell your mood," she told him, "Ever since that day you threated to kill me if I did what I did back then again. That's how long I've been able to tell."

"Oh?"

"Its not how you say things, but what you say, as well as the circumstances in which you say them," she said.

"Let's go, Tristan has already atrophied that woman's vocal chords," Harry said as he stopped hearing the racket caused by the woman, and began to walk towards where he knew the gateway to their platform was.

They passed by the red headed family and passed into the gateway. Harry had his belongings shrunk, and carried around on a necklace which only he could remove.

The platform itself was rather crowded, parents and children littered the place. There were some people running here and there, and a few that seemed to be simply looking over the place, searching for suspicious persons.

"Its a good thing we didn't bring the Trio with us," Charity said.

"Three Zabinis after the heir died while shopping," Tristan said, "They believe it to be an assassination that finally succeeded."

"Enjoy your time without me," Harry told his two companions, "But do not slack off in your duties."

Of course my lord," Charity and Tristan said.

"Charity," Harry said.

"Yes?"

"Find me as many books about the soul," Harry said.

"Even children's books?"

"Even those," Harry said.

"What about me?" Tristan said, feeling left out.

"Destroy the Zabini family," Harry instructed, "Leave only those that would be loyal to the Trio."

"Understood sir," Tristan said.

"Leave," Harry said, when they returned to the muggle world he walked up to the train and entered, but before doing so one of the parents bumped into him, and didn't apologize.

"Watch where you're going brat!" the man shouted at Harry.

"_Kill your wife then commit suicide by jumping in front of a moving train,_" Harry whispered, but made sure that the man could hear him. He then entered the train to look for an empty compartment, there were a lot of those considering that the train brought more than a hundred students to Hogwarts each year, it was impossible for there not to be any of those, any that said otherwise would be planning something.

The man immediately went to look for his wife, when he found her he pulled out his wand pointed it at her and...

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, the green beam of light escaping from the end of his wand, slamming firmly and solidly into the body of his beloved pug-faced wife, sending her body flying backwards with enough force to send her into a wall. He then ran to the barrier between worlds and proceeded to perform as instructed, he found the nearest moving train and jumped right in front of it killing him instantly.

The platform entered into panic scenario number one, everyone running around like headless chickens. It looked like the Hogwarts Express would be for the very first time late.

Aurors were immediately called in to the statioin, as were police on the muggle side of things. Everyone present was subjected to an on site interview, the authorities needed all the information they could get. They hoped that there would be some evidence that the murder was not intentional. But of course even if it was, there would be nothing they could do about it as the head of the Parkinson clan had commited suicide after killing his wife. Their daughter was now considered as an orphan, unable to touch her own family's money until she reached the age of majority.

The aurors had to take her to St. Mungo's due to her witnessing the murder of her mother right before her very eyes. She told the aurors that before her father did what he did, he bumped into a student, but she couldn't exactly describe the student. She was the only one to notice that particular event.

Harry didn't really care much about what his indirect killing did. It was a normal occurrence in his life after all. But when he himself was cornered by an auror for an interview, he sucked out that man's lifeforce, spirit, and soul, instantly. Then transfigured the body into a diricrawl and threw it out the window. Just as he did to the next three aurors that attempted to interview him, none of them would be reporting for duty anytime soon, or ever.

The train was finally allowed to depart two hours behind schedule due to all the commotion, it would two to three days before the auror corps realized that they were short some members.

So far the school year was looking to be a promising one.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: Got bored, wrote this.

*

*

**Avada Kedavra**

*

*

_**chapter five**_

_*_

_*_

The train ride was uneventful to say the least, a few students had tried to gain access to Harry's chosen compartment, but everyone that touched the door felt the cold hand of death reaching out to them, which made them think twice about trying to get in. There were some that even felt sick just by passing by the door. Harry did not want to be disturbed by these children. To them that was all they were, until of course if one or more of them would bother him, irritate him, annoy him, pester him, insult him, be rude to him, and so on and so so forth, then they would be considered as something else. Food.

There was one person that had actually knocked, but Harry not wanting to be bothered increased the effect he had on the door, and those beyond it, he did hear the falling of a body, and since nothing in terms of food was floating towards him, he knew that whoever it was had just fainted.

Harry considered the trip as uneventful even though the trolly lady, the one selling snacks and sweets, keeled over and died. It was an indirect death, and since her time was approaching its end, Harry didn't bother collectng from her. He saw no benefit from it. Her cause of death was bleeding in the brain after being knocked over by some rowdy students running in the aisle. She didn't die immediately, as she was still able to make it to her own private car, bafore succumbing to the effects of blood in her brain.

Upon reaching the Hogsmeade station, Harry got off alongside his fellow students, he didn't need to change his clothes per se, he simply transfigured them, he was quite good at transfiguration, just as much as killing actually. Mind control was just something he could do well, not great or exemplary in, especially ever since he learned about the Imperious curse, that made it possible for anyone to do it.

Exiting the train, he was called over, along with his fellow first years, by some no named person, and lead to some boats, which they rode, four to a boat, then floated over the black lake, which did give them a wonderful view of the castle.

"The first years, professor," the man said to some old witch, then walked away once she acknowledged hm and the students in front of the double doors of the Great Hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...." she did her yearly introduction before leaving the students with some final instuctions, "Enter when you are called."

Argus Filch was the man that had escorted the students to the double doors of the Great Hall, Harry had learned from reading the man's mind, from viewing his memories, that the man lacked the magic necessary to perform complex spells, but still had enough magic in him to live in the magical world, he just didn't have the means to fully experience it. While he seemed to detest the students, it was more that he was jealous of the rest of the populace, jealous of their ability to perform feats of greatness while he was left in the dark tending to the castle and her needs. He was the caretaker afterall, in charge of all the things to do with the castle herself.

Harry did not chose to take offense by the man's views and opinion, as he surely did possess a proper reason to dislike the students. He had also found out that the man favored some old ways of disciplining students, torture devices were still kept oiled and polished just in case they would once again be of some use to the school. Harry had some plans for that man, no, that monster.

When they were finally ushered into the Great Hall, Harry decided to stick to the middle of the group, there was no reason to draw attention to himself, even though in a few short moments such tactics would simply cease to work as he knew he was a celebrity, one that knew that what he was famous for was in a way false. The dark lord was still alive, if only barely, his soul trapped in soul jars, in horcruxes. If only the man had more inforamtion about souls in general, Harry would be able to figure out what to do with the pearls in his collection, sitting on their pillows, on their shelves, in his cabinet, in his bedroom.

As he waited for his name to be called, he took a look around the room, the ceiling's uniqueness he had already experienced in his memories as the soul of Tom Riddle had integrated his life into Harry's, adding knowledge, experience, and the like into the mind of the Cursed Child, the Demon Lord of the Underworld, British Underworld to be exact. While Harry knew that the soul could provide knowledge, he still wanted to know what the colors represented, he had a feeling that was how he would be able to separate useful from useless information, but he had to be sure of what was what, and which was which before subjecting himself or his collection to experimentation.

There were five tables in the hall, that he knew, four of which were to the four houses, and the remaining one was the table which the professors had the honor of sitting at.

He looked around the hall, and spent his time probing the minds of the youths, peforming a peripherary scan of their thoughts, searching for any that would be worth recruiting, and those that the world could do without, as well as those that fell in between, the food, the prey, the hunted sons and daughters of Adam and Eve.

When his eyes traveled to the front of the hall, to the teacher's table, he spotted the one man that truly damned him to the life he now lead, the one bereft of innocence, the one bereft of real love, the one bereft of an actual childhood, Albus Dumbledore. Had anyone been looking at his eyes, or if any of his surbordinates seen his eyes at that moment, they would have seen his expressionless eyes grow cold, colder than the ninth circle of hell itself. While Harry could kill anyone just by thinking it, well wishing, willing, desiring, wanting, etcetera, it, he could also do what many others only dreamed they could. Act like a basilisk and kill with but a glare or a stare. But he would not do so with Albus Dumbledore, he needed to do it in a certain way. Strip the man of everything he holds and held dear, everything that made him smile, everything that kept him moving forward, everything that made him THE Albus Dumbledore, and not just some other grandfatherly figure that thought he could rule the world, not merely from a position of power, but also from the shadows.

"Harry Potter," the old witch of a professor read from the list of first years, calling his attention, well more like making everyone look at the bunch of first years seeking out the one that was their supposed savior.

Harry walked out from within the group and walked up to the stool on which the hat sat on, and sat there himself, which followed by the professor placing the hat on his head.

'_Ah, Harry Potter, I've been dying to sort you...now let's see...what's this I see..the desire to end all life...what an active yet dangerous imagination you have here...killed multiple people just because they did you wrong in some petty ways...interesting..never seen such an active imagination..it borders on insanity.._' the hat rambled on as it viewed Harry's memories, it didn't seem to yet come to grips with the fact that the things he was viewing were not merely parts of some imaginary story Harry cooked up, but real events in the life of the seemingly cold hearted and psychotic child whose head it sat on.

'_Get it over with already_,' Harry thought in irritation, while not outwardly expressive, in his mind, where no one could really hear, he freely expressed his emotions, '_Lest I lose my patience and take for myself the parts of the founders found in you..lest I take away your purpose._'

'_I have never encountered a child such as you, you with such an active imagination, threatening me as well...interesting...fine then..I shall now sort you.._' the hat said, '_You are obviously not cowardly, but you do not rush into situations without planning something first which rules out Gryffindor, you are not all that loyal it seems, based on your imaginary scenarios you would dispose of an ally once they have sufficiently served their purpose, which rules out Hufflepuff...while you may be cunning to the point that you would make Slytherin proud, but you do not seem all that ambitious, which also rules out __Slytherin...which leaves me to the decision which I have already made since the very start of this sorting process, you have an unrivaled thirst for knowledge, not even Rowena herself lusted over information as you presently do...therefore I sort thee into..._RAVENCLAW!!!! _May you find the answers which you seek in that house._'

The decision was met with the applause of the whole Hall, as his sorting was finally over and done, with, for what had seemed like a minute or two, had in all actuality lasted for a good twenty-seven minutes.

He got off of the stool, handed back the hat, and made his way to the table of the ravens, knowledge, he would make use of this supposedly information centered bunch of individuals.

After the last student was finally sorted, Harry and the rest of the occupants of the room were given a sound talking to, well not quite, it was more like announcements like the death of the groundskeeper, unkown causes, but foul play was suspected, his body being found somewhere in Knockturn Alley, as well as the death of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, being found in one of the vaults in Gringott's bank a few days after Harry had apparently met the man. There were also warnings and such, like not going into the Forbidden Forest, or going to the third floor corridor as anyone that went there would surely meet a deadly fate or some such drivel. If only the headmaster knew that the Ravenclaw dormitory was going to be host to a single entity that could be the death of all living inhabitants, and even non-living inhabitants of the castle. There was also the deaths of several would be students, all of which may have happened before officially entering the school, but all of whom were already part of the roster of students.

The annoucements regarding the deaths he caused didn't really matter much to Harry, he only paid attention to the parts about the Forbidden Forest and the third floor corridor. He planned on visiting those two deadly places as soon as possible. That is, if he could get away from his presently, and for some time in the future, adoring fans.

There was nothing to complain about once the food arrived, it was exquisite, nothing at all to complain about, while it couldn't compare to his staple diet, it was still really good. But Harry suspected that the food was only such during feasts and not during everyday meals.

When he saw his first ghost he was quite surprised, they had a certain kind of lifeforce to them, but they were more spirit and soul than anything else. Harry wondered what one would taste like, but decided not to find out anytime soon, as a missing ghost might really be missed compared to bums on the street, or hags in an alley.

After the feast, and as the students were being lead to their dorms by the prefects, Harry saw for the first time, and noticed the portraits, their occupants moving hither and tither trying to get a good look at them. It was a different experience from having memories of such things, from seeing them. But Harry also noticed something about the paintings, he saw something akin to a thin film or a special kind of thread or something like that as part of the painting, it looked or felt familiar to him, but he couldn't place where he had seen or felt such a sensation which he felt from the portraits and paintings.

Soul pearls, ghosts, and paintings, all of them seemed to be connected somehow, and Harry was determined to find out how, a project that might get him closer to the answer of his quest of what to do with his soul pearls.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: Got bored, wrote this.

*

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**Avada Kedavra**

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_**chapter six**_

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The days passed by without incident, his schoolmates eventually learned not to bother him as those that did met some very grissly but not deadly fates. He had a tendency to curse those that dared to disturb him, it was probably due to Charity and his surbordinates already knowing when to and when not to approach him as well as how. He had been used to people knowing such things, but these children were so entranced by his celebrity status that they treated him like an object and not really as a person, which was why he decided to simply place curses on them, nothing deadly as they really didn't deserve such fates, and he didn't need to extend his lifespan that much anyway, still having a millenium's worth of lifeforce and spirit.

He had gone from celebrity that people wanted to be friends with, to the unapproachable celebrity, once again he was a Cursed Child. Some of the muggleborns whose parents had follows his story on the muggle side of things immediately tried as much as possible to avoid him due to his status as the Cursed Child, he whose guardians kept dying one after another, for mysterious reasons. While his schoolmates were not dying, they were still being cursed, which is something which scared of those that knew of his identity in the muggle world.

The professors didn't seem to have any problems with him, as he did rather well in their classes, transfiguration being his best subject, and the potions professor chosing to ignore him and give him the grades he deserved after their first lesson. The man had tried to read Harry's mind, trespass into the mind of a predator, one whose view on death was uncommon, but what scared him into behaving was the memory which Harry decided to share with the man, the memory of his first kill, with the professors body surperimposed over the dying holdapper.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, while not a favorite of Harry's, was once again a favored class due to the instructor actually knowing his subject, as well as not stuttering which in the past made lessons harder to understand. Most students thought that DADA would be something which interested Harry in, well, they were soundly disappointed. A student had managed to work up the courage to approach Harry one time and asked him if he enjoyed the class. Harry's reply was that if the class didn't teach about how to defend against death, then it was useless to him.

There were of course a few first years that didn't care about the danger of associating themselves with Harry, they didn't care about the rumors about being cursed, like a certain platinum blonde and a red head.

The blonde insisted on trying to bully Harry into becoming one of his _friends_, servants more like. Harry never minded him, which made people think that they were friends. The other red head on the other hand, was determined, it seems, to die as he insisted on insulting Harry along with the rest of the Ravenclaws, there really was something about the Gryffindor that Harry suspected as being slightly unnatural. It was as if he did not have a life of his own, as Harry scanned his mind he found out that the red head had some standing orders or something like that to either befriend of make sure that Harry Potter was friendless.

It was around Halloween when Harry had enough with the antics of the dynamic duo. It was time to return to being the Demon Lord and stop being the Cursed Child. They had been pestering him greatly, one wanting to use his fame and influence to gain support and more allies for future politicking, and the other wanting to either be his best friend or sink into the ground in shame, or even just seek out professional help from the professors.

Before the feast, Harry had sent mental messages to his operatives that night, as they had jobs to do, there were lessons to be learned, one such lesson was not to flaunt what power they had, and the other was not to tickle a sleeping dragon, while they had not kicked the dragon awake, the tickling is an irritation that an already irritated being will not and no longer tolerate. His operatives had their orders, and as a Halloween present the two pureblooded boys would be receiving the gifts of a lifetime, it was time to nip their futures in the bud.

His operatives were given the coordinates of their targets, it was to be a kidnapping mission, a kidnapping, not for food for their boss, but for some psychological punishment. Two strong personalities were about to be crushed by the lesser demons of the underworld. Their existences were going to be shattered, and their lives forever ruined. Their movements and plans proceeded like clockwork, there was to be no mistakes, and there were no mistakes. No matter what protections they had on their properties, the death magic that the lesser demons of the Demon Lord named Harry Potter were able to overcome the protections in one property due to their potency to kill off even magic, while the other property seemed to go so far as to invite those that possessed this energy. One property did not have the adequate protections to keep such deadly energies away, while the other was too inviting, too welcoming. One was like a weak mind, while the other had an unquenchable thirst for power.

Before the students finished their last class, before they entered the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, the lesser demons of the underworld run by Harry Potter had successfully gained entrance into the homes of their victims. While they may not have a direct way to use magic, they had tools to perform what was needed to be done.

They had been provided, along with their daggers and knives, with a ring and a necklace, the ring was for them to wear, as it granted them some additional but temporary abilities, while the necklaces allowed a link to temporarily form between the wearer and Harry.

After entering the homes, seriously wizards and witches should invent a ward against lock pickers, the lesser demons crept through the houses in search of their victims, finding them was simple, catching them was even simpler, a simple tranquilizer dart was all that was needed to incapacitate the targets along with anyone that was present that could possibly throw a monkey wrench into their plans.

They slipped the necklaces around the necks of the two witches, and did not need to inform Harry that their end of the operation was completed, for the moment the necklaces were slipped on Harry felt the connection form. He then got to work.

Harry poured in all the images and feelings he believed his victims felt as they died, as well as the feeling of the death magic turning into his emerald flames, how they felt surrounding him that first time. It was a feeling that for a normal human being would have been more than just disgusting, more than that, it would have felt horrible. While it had empowered Harry, it would make grown men chose to find the quickest way to rid themselves of the feeling, that way being death itself. He ended their vision of hell by having them see him, then see his eyes burn with the fires of his frozen hell. To the two witches it would seem like they had been sent to hell due to all the good things that they had done in their lives, their sins just making their punishments worse. There was also the added mental command given by Harry that whenever they did something helpful and caring, or something technically and ordinarily good they would feel pain, they would suffer, while whenever they did some bad, they would know that what they had done was, they would feel guilty, but they would crave the feeling for it was not painful, but pleasant. They would betray their very beings, and there is also the added bonus of whenever they saw someone they viewed as a loved one or a friend, they would see a demon, and should they see their son, they would see the devil himself, they would see Harry Potter, the Demon Lord of their mental frozen hell.

Harry knew that when a wizard or witch died, their family members were informed via black letters sent via owl. This was usually done when their loved ones died on the field of battle or something like that. Well luckily for Harry he knew about such a practice, and had left additional instructions with his subordinates. Those instructions being to send via owl, black letters to the two students that had crossed the line, that had forsaken their survival instincts and their common sense to achieve their selfish desires. Unfortunately instead of ultimately being able to reap their rewards, they would be made to indirectly suffer for their actions.

The owls flew in, sure they looked to have come from a post office, but they were owls carrying black envelopes, carrying black or death letters clenched between their talons. They landed in front of the two students that had been pests to Harry, as well as the brothers of the red head as it would not do to break the illusion that someone had not actually died.

The message to the two pests read...

_Be lucky that they have been allowed to live,_

_Continue to pester he-who-shall-not-be-disturbed_

_And you shall reap your desired rewards from the sides of the caskets of your loved ones._

_Signed,_

_HP_

_DL_

While the messages to the brothers read...

_Be lucky that you have not angered_

_He-who-was-cursed-with-death,_

_Else you would be weeping by the graves of your loved ones._

_Signed,_

_HP_

_DL_

_p.s. There is a reason why Gryffindors are secretly disliked by the majority of the populace._

While the rest of the school felt some amount of pity for the students that had received what they thought to be official notifications, the boys that had received the letters didn't really know how to react. There was also the feeling of wanting to know what had really happened, and who had sent the letters, as well as who they had angered to receive such a threat, while that was not what it was, it seemed to be. Even though it was more of a warning or a promise.

Before anything could be said concerning the matter of the notification letters, one of the still absent professors made his presence, known for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was male. He entered the Great Hall in a state of panic.

"T-Troll in the dungeons!" was all he managed to say before passing out. It looked as if he had managed to just barely escape from the dungeons. How such a simple minded creature had managed to enter the castle, baffled the students and professors, but the students didn't have time to actually ponder such things as their logical faculties were replaced with their own rising state of panic, all except for Harry.

Someone had to have let the things, in, and it was not likely to have been the professor, not that Harry really mattered, but he did want to know what the reason for such a thing was. He knew it to be a distraction, but a distraction in order to accomplish what, he did not know, but wanted to find out. Perhaps it was a distraction to allow the one to allow it to enter to gain access to whatever it was that was most likely being protected in that forbidden floor.

It was the perfect time for him himself to explore the forbidden corridor, and if he should meet up with the troll, well, he did need some magical energies that would not be missed by anyone at all.

By the rush of students getting out of the halls and safely to their dorms, Harry was able to make his escape and headed straight for the third floor corridor, but when he passed by one of the girl's loos he heard a scream of fright, and against his nature decided to investigate. What he found was one of the Gryffindors cornered and about to become paste via troll club. He did not need to think, he simply acted.

"Impudent troll, dare to kill before me?" Harry said loud enough to catch the troll's attention, and divert it away from its target and over to Harry.

When the thing was facing him and preparing to attack him, Harry raised up an arm and pointed a finger at the simple minded thing.

"You think you're a monster? Well let me show you a real one," Harry said calmly, as the club was descending on him, then said, "Now, DIE!"

As per usual, emerald flames exploded out of his body and traveled quickly to his fingertip and fired straight at the troll, burning it to a crisp in a matter of seconds, leaving not even ashes. Harry then walked up to the spot that it had stood and picked up an almost perfectly dark grey soul pearl, it had one streak of red in it, the rest was grey. Then placed it into his soul pouch, where he kept all the souls he had taken but not placed among his collection.

He turned around not bothering to check on the student he had saved and went off to further investigate the third floor corridor, but before he was able to leave the bathroom, three professors entered the door, wands raised in preparation for battle, prepared to defend any foolish students that had left their housemates to confront the beast.

"Mister Potter? What are you doing here?" Professor McGonagal asked.

"It was my fault professors," the Gryffindor said before Harry could answer, "I had read about trolls and thought that I knew enough to confront it, but Harry here overheard me and came after me."

"That was very uncharacteristically stupid of you Miss Granger, you could have been killed," the old witch of a professor scolded, "That will be ten points from Gryffindor. As for you Mister Potter, I suppose.."

"Pardon my interuption professor, but Miss Granger did not do as she claimed to have acted. She was not present at the feast and therefore had not heard about the troll being in the castle," Harry said, "I will not accept another's excuses for my actions. My curiosity is to be blamed, as I wanted to see how I would personally fare against such a brute. Suffice to say, not even ash remains of the beast."

"M-Mister Potter are you trying to tell us that you were able to k-kill the troll?" Professor Flitwick, Ravenclaw head of house asked, stupefied.

"You do not believe that I am capable of such a feat? While I may not have read about such a beast, I have managed to rid the school of such a pest," Harry said, his expression remaining as it always is, deadpan, save for that one moment during the opening feast as his gaze landed on the headmaster.

"I..it is hard to believe that a first year would be able to stand up to a troll, no matter its species," the dimunitive professor said.

"I believe him," Professor Snape said, knowing somehow that Harry truly was capable of such a feat, perhaps it was the mental torture he had gone through during that first potions class, then said distastefully, "Twenty-seven points to Ravenclaw for successfully committing murder on another living being. Congratulations."

"If you professors would excuse me, I have other places that I need to be at the moment," Harry said, then left the room, but before completely exiting said, "Security of this school is pathetic, I hope more dangerous creatures enter to terrorize and kill students."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: Got bored, wrote this.

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**Avada Kedavra**

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_**chapter seven**_

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The rest of the school year is rather bland compared to Halloween, the school was able to defend itself against any more intrusions, and Harry Potter was left alone, even by his fellow Ravens as his entire aura was deathly frightening. The only real interaction he had with his yearmates was probably during lessons, or when doing homework, as there were those random times that students would dare ask help from their resident cursed child. Of course they remembered to ask quietly, they figured that the reason that the Weasleys and the Malfoy had received those black letters was someone in part due to their forceful interaction and association with Harry Potter. Though all students did not have proof, they believed it to be somehow true.

During Christmas, Harry received some present, most of which were from his schoolmates, peace offerings and or bribes and the like, he received a package of soul pearls from his subordinates, and an invisibility cloak from the headmaster. The daggers and knives could cause instant death or at least form a link between the lifeforce of the victim and Harry. The necklaces formed a temporary mental link between thewearer and Harry. The ring, granting a number of special temporary abilities, allowed the wearers to collect the soul pearls before they passed on to the next world, the next great adventure, or to be reincarnated.

The invisibility cloak gave Harry some comfort, not only because it had once belonged to his father, but because it was a tool of the master of death, Harry simply knew that it was just by the feel of its magic. His own aura being dominantly made out of death energy, it was easy for him to recognize such energies in an artifact.

He cared not for sneaking around, he didn't need to, why would he, when the school, other students, and select professors seemed to have it in their heads that the school should be lax in its discipline, giving chances to students to wander the halls at night unsupervised, and even possibly explore the dangers or court the dangers of the forbidden corridor.

During Christmas break, Harry had found, during the day, a mirror that supposedly showed one's deepest desire. The Mirror of Erised.

What is showed Harry was not his family, but the answer to his ongoing quest for answers, the meanings of the soul pearls, but after seeing that image and memorizing its contents, the vision in the mirror changed to something else. It shifted to countless dead bodies strewn all around, but at his feet was the most important victim to death of them all, Albus Dumbledore.

After getting from the mirror what he wanted, he didn't visit the thing again as it had served its purpose. But he did make sure he placed a tracking charm on it in order for him to be able to find it should he find some other need for it. He had also placed some wards around it, ones that would inform him if anyone else would approach the mirror as well as record the magical signature so that he could track them down later for whatever reason.

When classes resumed after the short break, Harry decided to go exploring and try his luck at the corridor finally. Now that there were so many students once again, the corridor would not, and could no longer be watched as much as it would have been when there weren't that many students in the castle over the winter holidays.

He left his dormitory during a night when he did not think that anyone would miss him, it was a night without homework to be done, and considering that he was a Ravenclaw there were plenty of those days as the ravens had a tendency to finish things as soon as possible. Also, just in case he got caught he had made sure to curse two of his housemates into deciding to leave the dormitory that night as well. He had also made sure that a lot of his housemates lost points for whatever reason as much as possible during the classes of that day in order for him to have excuses for being out that night should he be caught at not suspected of doing some illicit activities.

But upon leaving the dormitory and heading for the forbidden corridor he stumbled upon another group of students making their way as well to the forbidden corridor, apparently the chance to explore the supposedly dangerous place had come to them as well. Not surprisingly, the group consisted of mostly red heads and an irishman.

He couldn't afford for distractions to be there, or witnesses for that matter, and he didn't think that outright killing them would be a good idea, as the thing that was being kept hidden in that corridor might be moved to a more difficult to reach location should he get rid of the students in his usual manner.

As these bunch of Gryffindors had disrupted a perfectly good opportunity to explore the corridor, Harry decided that if he couldn't kill them, he could potentially get them killed, as he had overheard the groundskeeper, the replacement for Hagrid, that unicorns were being hunted in the forest, and some investigating needed to be done. It was odd that the professors were thinking about letting students perform the investigation as a detention. Harry believed it to be a fair exchange if he could get himself a long with the ruiners to attend such a detention as he would be able to explore the forest without any hassle, while at the same time possibly get a soul pearl and possibly the spirit of a unicorn, dying or otherwise. He just hoped he could get near one.

He ran to the office of the Gryffindor head of house, and reported that while he was searching for his fellow ravens whom he had noticed had yet to return to their dormitory he had spotted a group of Gryffindors snooping around the forbidden corridor. He went so far as to name names, those of the ravens and those of the cowardly lions. He also told the professor that he would accept a detention for leaving his dormitory after curfew. While not over out of character for him, it was enough to land him into detention, for what student would want to willingly get a detention, unless they were guilty of planning something.

In the end the students that had been wandering and the group of Gryffindors were informed by Professor McGonagal that they would be serving detention the next night with the groundskeeper, and they would be serving the detention in the Forbidden Forest, the scenario which Harry hoped to attend was his to exploit however he pleased.

So the next night he arrived at the groundskeeper's hut, formerly Hagrid's home, and waited patiently, as patient as the dead, for his co-detentionees to arrive that his exploration of the dark depths could begin.

They students were lead into the forest, and since no one dared to be paired up with Harry the groudskeeper did it. Which was a very bad idea, if the groundskeeper thought about it, for as soon as he was left alone with Harry, his existence became the same as that of the previous groundskeeper. He fed Harry's hunger, and love for life.

Once more he was alone, and so could hunt in peace.

He prowled the forest like the predator that he was, attracting the other predators of the forest, but as soon as they were close enough to challenge his for the position of power, for dominance, they slowly backed away and chose to follow him instead, as his very aura was that of death. He cared not for these creatures of the forest which hunted then followed him like servants or pets. He had unicorns to hunt, and possibly those that were also on the prowl for them.

The groundskeeper had instructed the students to shoot red sparks into the air should they find anything suspiciuos, and just Harry's luck a pair of students had shot up red sparks, so he headed in that direction.

What he found was the remains of one student, the irishman, and the lamp which he was sure the red headed Gryffindor his age had been carrying as they went their separate ways. Something had silenced the studnet, and Harry was intent on finding out what. A crossbow had been used to kill the student, it was too late to harvest the energies, but it was not too late to find the killer. Not far from his location he could feel the energy of another creature on death's door. It must have been the real reason the students had shot up those red sparks.

He approached it like a panther stalking its prey, and when he was close enough to see it, he was able to confirm that it was indeed a unicorn, one that had been put near death's door by several cuts all over its body.

"Well, well, well, what do I have here," Harry said in whisper, a whisper that was carried off by a non-existent wind to the ears of the present hunters in the forest, "Such a tasty morsel you are."

The hunters that were hiding in the shadows a few meters away heard Harry speak, they were not that interested in hunting a unicorn, the unicorn was merely the bait for their real prey, the centaurs. Many parts of a centaurs body were used in potions, and the hunters intended to cash in on the tribe that lived in the Forbidden Forest, it wasn't like they would be missed, and should any students from the castle get in the way, the crossbow bolts used to kill them would make the authorities blame the centaurs, and make it open season for the half-horses. If they had the lower body of a horse, then that, for the hunters, made them nothing mroe than glorified animals.

When they heard Harry's whispered words, they wondered if he was perhaps some rare creature, some shapeshifter that they could sell parts to as well. But before they could act they were attacked by the centaurs from behind. Thus they were unable to watch what Harry did.

Harry surrounded himself in his emerald flames, and pulled out the three energies which he always took from his victims, which instantly killed the unicorn which was already on death's door. After pocketing the pearl, he turned to face the hunters and the centaurs.

He could see from his position that the centaurs were in no position to attack him, which was fine by him, so he attacked them, sending green fireballs at the centaurs, each one shot out of his emerald burning aura. Each bal of death slamming solidly into the body of a centaur. Let the ministry of magic deal with the repercussions of actions, was what he thought as he left the forest to wait by the hut of groundskeeper's hut, to wait for the other students, as he was sure that someone was bound to run into the body of the now dead groundskeeper. The hunters' bodies as well as the centaurs were dropped around the body of the castle staff memeber.

It was only the next morning that the body of the groundskeeper was found, along side the rest of the bodies, as the students had not returned by midnight, search parties were formed after the school had informed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's Auror Corps about the incident. It was only at dawn that the students were found, as well as the remains of the staff member, hunters, unicorn, and centaurs. The search parties happened upon the bodies right after the centaurs themselves did. Which in a fit of anger on the human and centaur parts caused a small war to be waged, causing even more centaurs to lose their long lives.

Harry had happily collected his treasures from the bodies, just as each and everyone of them fell. He waited by the hut, and was the first student to actually be found by the search parties, he had explained that the groundskeeper had ordered him to return to the hut as there was trouble afoot, and as Harry didn't really fancy getting into some more trouble, he had done as he was told. The other students had just panicked as soon as their lamps' lights went out, and Ronald Weasley had gone slightly mad at the sight of one of his friends dying right before his very eyes.

All in all it was a good haul for Harry, especially since he knew what to do with the soul pearls now, thanks to the Mirror of Erised, the only thing remaining on his agenda was exploring the Forbidden Corridor.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: This is a fan written work based on the works of J.K. Rowling. It might possibly also have some elements of a number of other works. There is no money being made from this, it is merely a work meant for the entertainment of myself and the masses. This is merely for fun, and no profit. I repeat: I am not making any money out of writing this.

Warning: OCs OOCs Sues, and some crack. You have been warned.

Note 1: AU.

Note 2: Got bored, wrote this.

*

*

**Avada Kedavra**

*

*

_**chapter eight**_

_*_

_*_

The end of the school year was finally approaching, and Harry still had not been able to check out what the heck it was that was being kept in the forbidden corridor. Having nothing better to do, as the test were all over, and there was a Quidditch game going on, Harry had finally decided that it was now or never. So he walked over to the forbidden corridor and proceeded to explore, he knew that the mirror had been transported someone in the corridor floor or whatever, it was near.

He entered the door at the end of the corridor only to find himself face to face with a cerberus, one of those three headed mongrels that the Greek were at one time so fond of for some reason. He saw the trap door at the foot of the beast, and did the only thing that came to mind.

"Avada Kedavra," he killed the creature, basically putting it out of its misery as it seemed to be fairly lonely for some reason, not that Harry cared in the slightest.

After entering the trapdoor, he found the place to be a little too dark, and did not know what the heck it was that he had landed on, so he did the only thing that came to mind. He let his fires burn, which in turn killed the giant plant he had landed on, allowing him to move forward. He did not let his flames die down as he believed that it would be safer and easier for himself to simply walk with them still burning.

The next room he entered was one with hundreds if not thousands of winged keys flying all over the place. He tried summoning the things, but that didn't seem to work. Sure he found the broom, but as he preferred the ground to the air, he tried something else.

"Finite Incantatem," Harry said a hand raised, palm facing the floating keys.

That did the trick, they all dropped to the ground, wingless.

"Accio key to the door," Harry said, picturing the door he needed to pass through, and imagining the that the right key would land in his hand, which it did after a bit of zooming here and there.

The next room he entered was one with a chessboard in it, one that appeared to not have been played yet, the pieces were still in their starting positions. Not having the patience to play such a pathetic attempt at a deterance, Harry simply blasted the thing to bits, believing that should any of these so called protections be attached to some kind of external alarm system, all of the professors were busy watching the game to notice anything, and it was not like they really cared, seeing as their protections were protections laid in Hogwarts the most formidable place on Earth or so many seemed to claim. But as it had admitted Harry, he didn't believe such tripe.

Wall of flames? He had one of his own surrounding him at the time. Troll? Avada Kedavra.

The last chamber was the one with the mirror. He didn't really know what was in the mirror, but stood in front of it and simply wanted to find whatever it was there to protect. He saw his image hold up a red stone or crystal, and place it in his pocket, as he felt around his pocket, he found the stone. Not really knowing its significance to the world of alchemy, he decided that since it didn't look all that important he would simply burn it up and see if it could be integrated into himself.

It was, and apparently it made him more immortal than he already was, and also gave him the ability to turn regular metals into gold, at a touch and at a thought, had to be the combination of the two. He believed the stone to be somehow related to Midas' touch, but he was wrong on that count, not that it really mattered as he had already assimilated it into himself.

He decided that since the mirror could be used to hide something such as the valuable mineral like stone, he would keep the mirror, it had been hidden there, and finders-keepers, losers-weepers.

He had unwittingly gained what Lord Voledmort was originally after, but unfortunately had to have met Harry Potter before the start of the new school year.

After leaving the chamber, Harry made sure that the headmaster and his merry bunch of henchmen would be alerted at the theft made within the so-called safest place in the world. He blew the place up, using as much of his special brand of magic to collapse parts of the tunnel, chamber, and even went so far as to paint the room with the cerberus red with its own blood and entrails.

But he did make sure to leave no trace of his having been there. Anything that could be traced to him had been destroyed or turned to nothing, not even ashes, but his emerald flames.

By the time the professors got there, the stone had been taken, as had the mirror, and there masterpieces of protection were in ruins, and there was nothing they could do about it.

Harry was long gone from the place, having already headed back to his dormitory, to replenish his stores of energy, the kind that could only be gotten through sleep.

The next day the headmaster would announce that the forbidden corridor was still forbidden but for different reasons. There had been an accident there that had almost destroyed that part of the castle, and therefore was under repairs and would undergo renovation as well.

The leaving feast was nothing spectacular, Harry had once again been pestered by Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy. Since apparently they had not learned their lessons, he had decided that perhaps it was time to finally thoroughly curse their bits off. They would not be able to spawn any incarnations of themselves for the rest of their lives, they would never find out what puberty was all about, and would have to live their lives as enuchs. He had made sure to vaporize their sliced off bits, so that not even the matron would be able to piece their pieces back together again. They were now like humpty dumpty, except they had not sat on a wall, and instead of having a great fall, their eggs had simply been smashed to smitherines and their hotdogs had been turned into minced meat and mush.

After one full year of Harry Potter, the whole of the present school population knew not to mess with Harry Potter on the train, and if one felt sick by just passing by a compartment, then that was the compartment not to be disturbed.

#

At the station...

"So..." Charity said, after greeting her boss, as did Tristan, "How was school?"

"Bland," Harry responded, then asked, "Have you found the books?"

"Several, from all over the place," Charity replied.

"Good," Harry said, then turned his attention to Tristan, "The family I wanted wiped out?"

"Extinct, as of...." Tristan said, then checked his watch, "Seventeen hours ago."

"Excellent," Harry said, "Shall we go home?"

"If you insist," Tristan said, "We didn't bother bringing a car, since you like walking so much."

"Good job, Tristan," Harry said, "You remembered, but she still doesn't sport a ring."

"Ah...eheh...maybe next year?" Tristan said hopefully he could get off the hook.

"Hopefully," Harry said then walked through the gateway which separated the magical from the muggle world.

*#~_Year One End_~#*

_Seriously bored..._

_review if you want, if you liked it, thought it was a waste of cyberspace, just to tell me that I must have really been bored, etc..._

_when I'm bored again, I'll write Year two, and kill more things...or have a staring contest with the Basilisk._


End file.
